


Feeling Blue

by TempusPetrichor



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (I think just 3), Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Drift Bond, Drift Side Effects, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Swearing, The Drift (Pacific Rim)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27556162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempusPetrichor/pseuds/TempusPetrichor
Summary: Both Hermann and Newt's PPDC-approved, NDA-bound therapist love to say ‘recovery isn’t linear.’ Newt loves to tease Hermann about the math reference.Newt has an accident in the lab, and Hermann almost causes one on his way there.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler & Hermann Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Feeling Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, 'tis me. There're some spoilery-warnings further down--feel free to check or skip them as you prefer! I've been listening to the Pac Rim soundtrack while writing this, but now when the songs come up in other playlists, I instantly get distracted by thoughts of two nerds and a kaiju brain.
> 
> Please hit me up with any thoughts/concerns/suggestions. I love to here from ya :)
> 
> TW/maybe spoilers:  
> Just a heads up, there's some descriptions of blood/a cut hand in this one. The body horror tag isn't strong, but I wasn't sure how else to cover not feeling entirely 'human'.

It takes a year and a half for Newt to dissect a kaiju.

Obviously, part of that was ridding him of Precursor control and then confirming that they were actually gone, but then he just _couldn’t do it_. The first sample he got sat untouched for a week before Hermann started complaining about the smell. It was another two days after that when Hermann stepped in in Newt’s place. That was the first time Newt saw Herms wield that chainsaw— _Wow_. Newt’s gotten better since then, of course. Both Hermann and his PPDC-approved, NDA-bound therapist love to say _‘recovery isn’t linear.’_ Even if Newt knows it’s a valid point, he can’t help his frustration, which inevitably leads to giving Hermann shit for the math reference.

Anyways—getting better. Right. Newt can dissect now, most days, at least. Sometimes he gets stuck—more than once, he’s zoned out and startled when Hermann gently takes the scalpel out of his hand, frozen over whatever kaiju viscera is in front of him. He’ll strip Newt’s gloves, lead him to a chair facing the table, and push a glass of water into Newt’s hands before getting started himself. Sometimes, Newt contributes from the sidelines, and they discuss DNA and biology and all the other stuff Hermann used to yell at him about. Sometimes, they don’t. Hermann always seems to know when Newt needs a break or when he’s about to. It’s a side effect of the Drift—Newt’s grateful his head isn’t completely silent, even though he hated the cacophony of the Precursors—and working together for over a decade before that. Bad days are fewer and farther between. Sometimes Newt still catches himself bracing for the echo of pain as he cuts into kaiju, but Hermann helps. Hermann always helps.

Except, today, Hermann is on the other side of the Shatterdome for some meeting Newt’s _still_ not officially cleared to be in, even though Hermann will tell him what happened later anyways. And the sample in front of Newt will go bad soon if he doesn’t do something. Hermann assured him he’d take care of it when he got back, but Newt wants to take care of _Hermann_ for once. It won’t make up for everything he’s done, but it’s a start, and he _should_ be able to _do_ this god _dam_ mit _._

Alright, gloves on—that’s the easy part. Hermann always wears that apron that makes him look like an adorable evil chef, but Newt isn’t worried about his clothes getting dirty. Next step, choosing a weapon. This sample is a squishy-inside organ—probably the kaiju equivalent of a spleen—so that’s a no-go on the chainsaw. Precise and maneuverable: scalpel it is.

The first cut is easy. A little Blue leaks out of the laceration, but it’s already neutralized, so it’s okay. The second cut isn’t quite as smooth—his hands might be shaking a bit, but that’s fine. He’s been shaky during a dissection before. He’s worked through days without sleep—a little tremor won’t stop him. The third, fourth, and fifth cuts go fine. The sixth gets stuck. He’s trying to cut through a ropey something through the center of the organ so he can see what’s underneath, but it’s tougher than the rest of the flesh. _Interesting_. Newt’ll have to ask Hermann if he ran into something similar on any other samples. It’s unusual for a well-protected organ to need additional armor underneath.

Newt wraps one hand around the tube and starts sawing with the scalpel in the other. He _could_ get a more appropriate tool, but that would require additional cleaning later. He’s changed over the past decade, _sure_ , but that doesn’t mean he wants to be griped at for leaving _two_ dirty tools lying around instead of just one. Besides, they have _interns_ now. One of them would probably be more than willing to—

_Shit._

Holy _shit._ That _hurts_.

Kaiju Blue is _flowing_ out of the wound now. It was a _goddamn_ vein full of the stuff, _of course,_ it was. He should have _known_ that: should’ve known _better_. Newt’s hand is covered in Blue, and he can feel it gushing out of the slice where his hand slipped. It was such a _stupid_ mistake. He should have waited for Hermann; he _always_ should have waited for Hermann. He should never have Drifted with the kaiju alone, again and again and _again_.

Newt stumbles toward the sink, throwing the faucet on full blast as hot as it will go. The water burns, and the Blue fizzes even though it’s no longer toxic. Newt wraps his other hand around his wrist, and he thinks it might be too tight, but if he lets go, he’ll be _gone._ The drain turns a duller blue, and then— _is that red?_ It _can’t_ be, he Drifted with Alice, and they said he was them now. He felt their pain and their anger, he saw his eyes _glow_ in the penthouse, this _can’t_ be real. It’s not blue. It’s not _blue_ , so this _can’t_ be real, and he is still _trapped_.

Dimly, Newt thinks he should shut the water off. He slides down the side of the sink instead. He’s still clutching his bleeding hand. Red trails down his arm, staining his shirt and his skin. It doesn’t eat away at his flesh, but it _should_ , and something is _very, very wrong with him_.

\---

Something is _very, very wrong_. Hermann is in a meeting with top PPDC leadership—including Jake, Ranger Lambert, and the head J-Tech, Jules—and wishing Newton was there to make snide comments under his breath like the previous decade when his hand suddenly twinges. It isn’t remarkable in itself—writing equations with chalk all day can cause cramps at odd times. He rubs at his palm with his thumb, trying to knead the sharp pain away. Suddenly, he feels like he’s been hit in the solar plexus. He can’t get enough air, and his heart is beating too fast, and he _knows_ Newton is in trouble. Jake looks at Hermann concernedly when he stands so abruptly his chair teeters on the edge of falling. Hermann excuses himself as politely as he can, but fighting the combination of Newton’s and his own rising panic is a more dire situation than staying for the discussion of the following year’s budget for cleaning supplies.

Hermann practically runs through the Shatterdome. Luckily, the meeting is on the same floor as the lab, but he still bumps into multiple people on his way to Newton. He stops at the entrance to the lab, leaning heavily on his cane and the doorframe. He tells himself the pause is because he doesn’t want to startle Newton.

Hermann should’ve expected _he’d_ be the one startled.

Newton is collapsed on the floor of the lab, and Hermann freezes momentarily with the memory of finding Newton in a similar position after his Drift with the damaged kaiju brain. _No_. He cannot do this now—not when there is an actual immediate danger.

Hermann finally rushes forward. Newton doesn’t appear unconscious, but he usually greets or at least _acknowledges_ Hermann when he’s in the room, even if it’s just a half-hearted insult. Newton is pale and shaking so hard that Hermann worries he’ll hit his head on the sink he’s leaning against.

Hermann drops to the ground near Newton but doesn’t touch him. His cane falls to the ground, and he looks over at the sound of a metal-on-metal clink. A scalpel? What was Newton _doing?_

When he looks back at Newton, he still hasn’t recognized Hermann’s presence. Newton’s breathing is erratic—too fast, with stuttering exhales. He’s looking at his hands, so Hermann does too. His breath catches in his throat a moment, and he fights the urge to match Newton’s gasps. There’s blood running down his arm. Hermann’s not sure how he missed it before. The red is stark against Newton’s skin, which is almost as white as his shirt.

“Newton?” Hermann speaks softly. “Newton, can you hear me?”

When there’s no response, Hermann repeats the message inaudibly. He focuses on the presence at the back of his head and gives in to the pull. He feels his body relax for a moment in the bond before he tenses again—the bridge is supposed to be _warm_ , but Hermann suddenly has the urge to rub his arms to generate heat.

 _Newton._ He thinks. _Newton, can you hear me?_

There’s no response, not exactly, but there is the feeling of being _seen_ that isn’t the traditional openness required of any Drift. Hermann hopes.

 _Newton, is it okay if I touch you?_ Newton has always been tactile, and Hermann needs to focus his attention as best he can.

Hermann’s chest lightens a fraction, and it’s the best he can take as an affirmative. He sets his hand on Newton’s knee and reaches out to Newton’s mind again.

_Your name is Newton Geiszler. You are safe. You are free._

Hermann repeats this until his chest loosens, until Newton starts dragging in huge breathes like he was underwater, until he looks at Hermann and _sees_ him even if Newton’s eyes are wide with fear.

Hermann rubs his thumb across Newton’s knee before shifting into a crouch. He starts to put an arm around Newton to help him up before he thinks better of it. He gestures between them.

“Is it alright if I continue to touch you?”

Newton nods jerkily, but it’s the first physical response Hermann’s gotten so far. He puts an arm under Newton’s shoulders and levers him up off the ground. His cane still lays next to the dropped scalpel, but the sink is sturdy enough to support them both. Hermann gingerly turns Newton around and pries his fingers away from his wrist. The blood looks to be coming from a cut on his palm—which explains Hermann’s suspected cramp—with finger marks to match. Little crescents of red line the inside of Newton’s wrist.

The sink is already turned on—Newton must have started cleaning the wound before his attack. Hermann can see the steam rising from the water and turns it down to a more reasonable temperature. Newton isn’t pulling away, but he isn’t exactly helping either. He’s just watching Hermann dip his hand in the water stream and dispense soap from the antibacterial container. He barely flinches as Hermann carefully washes the cuts.

Once the blood is cleaned off both of his arms, Hermann reaches for the first-aid kit that’s stored on the shelf above the sink. It’s not the first or the worst injury they’ve had in the lab, and Hermann doubts it’ll be the last, but he won’t deny that it’s one of the most concerning. Hermann puts some antibiotic cream on the cut and starts wrapping it in gauze. It’s not until Newton’s blood starts to seep through the first layers, turning them pink, that Newton finally speaks.

“It’s not blue.” His voice is practically a whisper, and Hermann is as confused as if he hadn’t heard what Newton said at all.

“What’s not blue?” Hermann keeps his voice even, but only barely. It’s hard to concentrate on finishing the final wrapping when Newton is still shaking slightly.

“My—” Newton swallows. “My blood. It’s not _blue_.”

“ _Blue?_ Why would it be blue?”

Newton clears his throat more fully. Hermann finishes wrapping and taping the bandage, but Newton is still staring at it. “I thought—I thought I could do it. I’d done it before, and I was _fine,_ or I _thought_ I was, and then I just _wasn’t_.” Newton finally looks at Hermann, and Hermann almost wishes he didn’t. It’s that same apologetic expression that touched Newton’s face when his hands were wrapped around Hermann’s neck. “I thought it was _Them_. I thought _I_ was Them, and I was still trapped, and I wasn’t—I wasn’t strong enough—”

Hermann takes both of Newton’s hands in his and cuts him off before he can continue. “Newton Geiszler, you listen to me right now. You are the strongest person I know. You delayed a race of alien colonizers for _ten years_ and succeeded in _annoying the hell out of them_ while you did it. Doubt may still come, but I _promise_ it will never be from me. You are a good man—a good _human_ —and full of the same plasma, platelets, and cells as the rest of us.”

Newton’s eyes are still wide, but they no longer look stricken with fear. His mouth is slightly open, and his voice is pitched higher than normal with feigned casualness.

“You know, you’re kind of sexy when you sweet-talk me with biology.” Newton’s cheeks start to color—which is a welcome sight compared to his previous paleness. Hermann is struck silent now. Newton is never _shy_.

Hermann takes Newton’s face in his hands and leans forward to kiss the top of his head. When he leans back, Newton’s blush has deepened his color even closer to normal. Hermann moves his hands back to Newton’s.

“Let’s call it a day, shall we? One of the interns can take care of this mess.”

Newton grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it :) Please hit me up anytime, I'd love to hear from y'all


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